


Party Tricks

by HotCocoaMocha



Category: Tales of Zestiria
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Illnesses, Pain
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-10
Updated: 2019-06-14
Packaged: 2020-05-07 12:47:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19209748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HotCocoaMocha/pseuds/HotCocoaMocha
Summary: Everyone has a trick up their sleeve, even if it's nothing flashy.





	Party Tricks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I remember in a skit Mikleo mentioned the malevolence in Ladylake was making him feel sick, yet it doesn't show another skit that shows him feeling sick. Yeah, being a Sub Lord might have had something to do with it, but still. What a waste of good whump material.
> 
> Enjoy~

It should have been no surprise that Mikleo would be sensitive to the malevolence in Ladylake. He and Sorey have spent their lives in Elysia, safe in Gramps's domain, not an ounce of that miasma to be seen in the air when they ran through the fields.

 

Still, the malaise dripping in his stomach grew and grew with every step towards Ladylake; and as soon as they stepped through the doors, it was like suddenly coming down with the flu again after so many years of not being sick. Did it stop him from venturing into the Vivian Aqueduct? Not at all.

 

But _l_ _ords,_  the nausea, the bone-deep ache... It seems having a pure vessel doesn't cure the symptoms.

 

After another few hours of restless dozing, he sighs and pushes himself up, sliding his legs off the bed and feeling like he hunted and fought too many prickleboars all at once, no artes whatsoever. He pauses for a moment when Sorey stirs in his own bed, When he doesn't wake, Mikleo moves slowly this time, grabbing a blanket scarf and a picnic towel.

 

He's just closed the door with a soft  _click_ when he hears a whisper. "Mikleo?"

 

Alisha is right outside of her room, with Lailah next to her and a glass of water in hand. He forgot they were staying up talking about how seraphim typically live their lives.

 

His discomfort must have shown somehow, because worry etches itself across they're features. "Are you feeling alright?" Alisha asks. "You're very pale."

 

"And quite...underdressed." Lailah gestures to Mikleo's pajamas. "If you plan on going out, you'll catch a cold like that."

 

"Uh..." Ugh, his mind is too muddled. "'M fine. Jus'...need some air..." He stumbles towards the front door of the inn and steps out into the cool air, wrapping the blanket scarf around his shoulders. Normal humans can't see seraphim, so he's not too worried about the guards or the Scattered Bones catching him this late at night.

 

At some point he finds himself near the waterwheel, sitting on the towel with his legs over the edge in the water. (Has he been barefoot this whole time?) It brings back memories of when he and Sorey would have off days, idly talking about ruins with their feet lightly swishing in the water, while some curious fish would swim around Mikleo's legs like hyperactive puppies. (It must have something to do with being a water seraph.)

 

He doesn't know how long he's been drifting, staring at and listening to the water rushing through the canals, until something, or rather, some _one,_ presses himself next to him, and wraps a firm but gentle arm around his shoulders.

 

Sorey's voice is hushed, which helps the headache that has been slowly turning into a migraine. "How are you feeling?" He has a short, dark cloak around his shoulders, the hood pulled up to help conceal his identity.

 

Mikleo doesn't answer for a moment. Well, more like he  _can't_ answer. He doesn't have the energy, but he musters just enough to whisper back, "Remember...when I caught the flu from you? Or my first migraine...? Feels like those, but...worse." What he wouldn't give for some of Gramp's herbal teas and aromas right now.

 

The arm shifts down and a finger lightly pokes him in the side. "And you thought it was a good idea to walk out like this?" Sorey's tone is lighthearted, teasing; but Mikleo picks up on the subtle concern. He shrugs halfheartedly. "Didn't know what else to do," he mumbles. "S'not like I have a fever..."

 

"Actually, I think you do." It's only after Sorey says that does Mikleo notice the hand on his forehead, now reaching lower and gently pressing against his cheek. "You're pretty warm."

 

...Ah, what the hell.

 

Mikleo slumps a bit against Sorey, pulling the blanket around him tighter. "...Been feeling like crap all day..."

 

He can feel Sorey trembling as he chuckles. "You must be, if you're admitting that much and cursing. You almost never curse." There is no questioning why he didn't say anything before, of which Mikleo is grateful. "Do you wanna go back inside? Or stay out here a little longer?"

 

For a moment, Mikleo considers staying out; but then a shiver passes through him. "...Inside."

 

"Alright." Sorey moves to stand, only to pause. "You feel okay enough to stand?"

 

...Hm...

 

...Uh...

 

... _Nope._

 

Mikleo does reach out for Sorey's hand for help at least, only for the latter to scoop an arm under his legs. Water quietly splashes and dribbles down his feet, and Mikleo wishes he brought another towel.

 

He wants to say something snarky about Sorey carrying him, but a sharp throb behind his eyes and in the back of his head makes him wince. He rests his head in the crook of Sorey's neck as the grip on him tightens.

 

The next thing he knows, a familiar scent floats around in the air. Now he's more alert, if only a little. The lights in their room are thankfully dim, and small tray with a steaming tea set rests on the nightstand. "Is that...?"

 

"Figured it would perk you up." Sorey settles Mikleo on the edge of the bed. "We were lucky the innkeeper was still awake to find some for us." He takes a fresh towel and rubs pale legs dry, before pouring some of the peppermint tea in a cup. It's enough to ebb most of the pain and nausea away with every sip.

 

It brings to mind an old memory of when they were twelve. They were doing evening chores when Mikleo suddenly fell to the floor, clutching his head as he curled up. Eventually he passed out, and Sorey ran off to get Gramps in a panic. He woke up in bed to a cold and damp cloth on his forehead and peppermint tea, and Sorey next to him asleep in a chair.

 

The door creaking open brings him back to the present. Lailah smiles softly. "How's your headache, Mikleo?"

 

"Ah..." Mikleo manages a small nod. "It's a lot better." He frowns, a thought occurring to him. "Um...about going to Marlind...?"

 

"We'll head out when we're sure we're in the clear," Sorey murmurs. "Alisha thinks we should lay low for a while, especially after what just happened in the palace."

 

 _Makes sense,_ Mikleo muses, even when there is a nagging thought telling him they're staying because of him.  _Even if I was fine, the guards will still be on the lookout for Sorey and Alisha. And that's not getting into that Scattered Bones group..._

 

"Where is Alisha right now?" Sorey asks, turning to Lailah.

 

She giggles behind her hand. "She's trying to make rice balls for Uno."

 

"At this hour?"

 

"Well, nervousness  _does_ tend to interfere with proper sleep on occasion. Given everything that's happened, it's understandable."

 

Then Mikleo gets an idea. "She should add some tea to go with the rice balls."

 

Lailah's eyes light up, not taking long at all to catch on. "That's a nice idea!"

 

As soon as she slips out of the room, Sorey nudges Mikleo. "You should get some rest." Mikleo doesn't protest, curling up with his face resting on a comfortably cool spot on the pillow as Sorey opens a book Alisha lent him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How's that for a punny chapter title? ~~#SorryNotSorry~~
> 
> I'll be honest, I've never had peppermint tea before; but I _have_ heard a friend say that it really helps a lot with migraines and nausea and the like. I also wanted to add more, but I think Mikleo finally being able to sleep would be a good place to stop.
> 
> Alas, poor Sickleo...


End file.
